Banak's Ball
by Jack The Bard
Summary: It's Pwent's turn to make his greatest achievement, but It's for Banak Brawnanvil. The captain of the Gutbuster Brigade tries to get a new member.
1. Chapter 1

**This just came to me. It is so cool.**

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For the first time in years, Thibbledorf Pwent took up a hammer and tongs. He had been the leader of the Gutbuster battlerager Brigade for nearly a century, and had not smithed an item in a century and a half.

This time was special, though.

It was his time, and much like how Bruenor crafted Aegis-Fang, it was his time to make his greatest smithing achievement of all time.

The two hundred kilos of glass sat before him. He was ready.

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The labour was hard and rough, but it was worth it for a certian someone. In Obould Many-Arrows' seige upon Mithral Hall, Banak Brawnanvil had been paralyzed from the waist down, and this was a project dedicated to get said dwarf to join the Gutbuster Brigade.

Pwent's thickly muscled frame lifted another ten kilos of glass into the furnace, creating the molten sand he needed.Carefully removing it so he did not get the ashes in the pure, melted liquid, he placed the melted glass into the container with all the rest of what he had melted thus far. It had to be big, it had to be perfect.

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After a tenday of melting glass (doing some loads over again as a result of the tainted ashes), There was enough.

Pwent set ten kilos aside in a smoldering container to keep it hot, and got to work on the rest.

The pipe he used to make the glass was elegant, smooth, and made sweet music when the glass was blown properly. It had to be magical, it had to be perfect.

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Another greuling tendays passed, and the project was nearly complete: a glass orb bristling with spikes. The ten kilos of glass Pwent had set aside were sitting in the heater still, and he got to work on that.

From this, he made a magnificent wheelchair, hooked to the orb around it so it could move with the speed and precision that he had seen Banak use in his own chair. The chair took two days, but it was perfect. It had to be.

The Craftsman Pwent slipped on iron mesh gloves, and smoothed the glass out with them, making sure each crease was turned into a smooth portion of the orb. It had to be smooth. It had to be perfect.

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Soon, all of the orb was complete, and the most difficult task yet was at hand. A normal glass ball would shatter under the most clumsy of blows, making it completely useless, but if it was **glassteel**, then it would work.

Pwent walked to his chest of magical items, including his first set of Gutbuster armor, and the components he needed. The satchel of steel dust was heavy, but it was going to work, and the scroll was the largest Pwent had ever seen in his life. He would have to put his Gutbuster instinct aside and sit back into his softer side, the one that could finish the sphere for Banak.

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The sphere had hundreds of runes etched into its frame, more concentrated on the poles than anywhere else, spreading out down the diameter of the seven foot high sphere, to the base, and etching into the chair.

Pwent sprinkled the steel dust onto the runes, where the particles stuck like the runes were a magnet. After every rune was completely filled, the chant began.

This was perhaps the most taxing test on Pwent. Each arcane word drew another bit of his life-force and brutality out and placed it in the sphere. The runes dissapeared in the order they were etched, leaving a blood-red tint in their wake, a testament to the monster blood this machine would spill.

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When all was said and done, the craftsman bit down on his thumb, causing some blood to flow. The blood welled up, and Pwent stood on the chair in the center of the orb to write his name in the rune-text of Faerun on the upper pole of the sphere. Exhausted, Pwent fell asleep in the orb he had spent so long to craft.

It was ready.


	2. Chapter 2

**Sorry this took so long. People were asking for this, and so they got it.**

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This was the day, Pwent thought, as he rolled the enormous ball down the hall. Today, Banak Brawnanvil would be back in action. The pale red ball was viscious looking, and hopefully, it would become a battlefield icon. Those were the least of Thibbledorf Pwent's hopes, though.

He rolled the ball into the Gutbuster Brigade training room, and set off to Banak's quarters. The paralyzed dwarf sat at his window, looking at a bird longingly, wishing he could be free of his earthly chain once more. The wheelchair had strengthened his arms to great extrermes since the battle, but he was useless on the field. He was startled when Pwent called him, "Banak."

The former general turned around to face the battlerager, surprised to see the dwarf not clad in his clanking, clattering armor. "Pwent. What brings ye to the quarters of an old fool?"

Pwent smirked, "I'm asking ye to join us in our practice." of course it seemed an absurd question, the dwarf could not participate in his state! "I cannot join ye. Me legs are useless, remember?"

"Well, ye can watch."

The older dwarf considered it for a moment, then agreed. "I'll join ye, but only to watch."

"I'll wheel ye down."

Pwent grasped the handles on the back of Banak's chair, and pushed him to the room where the ball was stashed.

"Thanks for inviting me, Pwent. I'm glad ye did this." Pwent was slightly taken aback by this, but he proceeded, knowing Banak would be very happy soon. "If ye could join the Gutbusters, would ye?" Pwent asked. Banak thought for a bit, then grinned, "If possible, yes. I would be glad to join yer brigade."

Pwent's smile could not have been wider, "Then ye are part of the Gutbusters now." At that moment, the two dwarves turned into the room, and Banak's eyes widened at the sight at the 10- foot globe of glassteel. "Ye mean...?"

Pwent just replied a simple "Yep" to the tearing dwarf. The wheelchair was pushed over to the orb, and things were great from there.

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Banak was so overjoyed that tears streamed from his pained eyes. The freedom he had always wanted sat there before him, and it was just in time too. A horn sounded throughout Mithral Hall, signaling an attack from the vile orcish vermin that inhabited the lands nearby. With great difficulty,Banak hoisted himself into the glassteel ball and grasped the wheels of the chair that had been built into it. The horn sounded again and he was off. The inner wheels were magically fastened to a set of treads, and with Banak strapped into the chair, he could take a tumble and still come out smiling.

The orcs charged through the hall, engaging the dwarves that stood guard there. Axes on both sides of the conflict were raised, then a war horn sounded as the Gutbuster Brigade charged in, Banak and Pwent at the lead. The wedge of dwarves slipped through the enemy ranks like a gigantic, serrated-armored knife through warm butter. The havoc that the whole brigade wreaked could not be matched by the might of Banak Brawnanvil.

The mighty glassteel ball was the figurehead of the Gutbusters, serving up juiced orcs all around, and the pale red ball became thick with the blood of the foul vermin. When the battle was said and done, the joyous Banak joined the Gutbuster Brigade without hesitation. The rest of the brigade welcomed him into their ranks gratefully, wheelchair and all.

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**So that's it. My readers wanted steaming, frothy cups of orc juice, and so they got it. 3**

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End file.
